


This is Definitely not Adoption

by Anonymous



Category: DreamSMP, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: But Tommy isn't apart of the DadSchlatt family for the most part, DadSchlatt, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Mostly Fluff, Platonic Life Partners, Quackity and Schlatt that is, Schlatt wasn't as evil as he was in canon, Toby Smith | Tubbo Needs a Hug, Toby Smith | Tubbo and TommyInnit are Siblings, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26992516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The festival comes, it’s all blown to pieces, and Schlatt and Quackity are both thrown out into the wild. Against all odds or reason, a young boy unexpectedly joins them, and the closest thing to a family they’ve ever felt is born.(This is mostly just family dynamic fluff (first few chapters are pretty angsty though LOL) with Schlatt and Quackity being … questionably good dads with good intentions. There is no real shipping, just Quackity jokingly flirting.)
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo
Comments: 44
Kudos: 868
Collections: Anonymous





	This is Definitely not Adoption

**Author's Note:**

> hi i have no shame 
> 
> not beta read and also I'm dyslexic so .. whoops 
> 
> also this is posted anonymously because I'm a bit embarrassed abt my interests, but if people like my terrible writing i might make a series for my stuff

It kind of really hurt, seeing everything they built reduced to ash and craters. 

Wilbur had really gone through with it. Wilbur, the one L’manberg had looked up to as a leader, had torn it all apart at the seems. The white house, the podium, the little builds and trees and memories they made were turned to debris and dust. Small fires still casually lined the ground, and everyone caught in the chaos found them selves bruised and dirty. Wilbur looked like he was ecstatic, and despite the broken nation, Tommy seemed okay with the outcome too. 

Despite the lost memories and monuments and history, everyone was pleased Schlatt was out of office. The evil had been defeated, so to say, and now the story was over. A week after the explosions, after the group (Tommy and Wilbur, and the rest of L’manberg) had cleaned as much as they could, a celebration was held, with people smiling and cheering and passing rounds. They all seemed happy. 

Tubbo wished he could share that joy. 

Tucked under Tommy’s arm, he heard the music blaring from wherever the jukebox was. Everyone was spread about the room around the makeshift table in the middle, drinking and joking and jumping. A pleasant feeling clearly filled the room. Wilbur made a toast to their regained nation, a vow to rebuild it better than ever, and everyone agreed. Everyone was fine with what happened. Tubbo couldn’t pinpoint why, but he only felt worse.

He left his stupor after hearing someone chant his name. 

“Tubbo, Tubbo!” Tommy spoke, “Hey Tubbo, grab some more chairs, will you? Fundy needs a place to sit.” 

And there it was. He was back to being the unseen one, the one people just used for their own benefit. He didn’t know why he felt like this. Any other time, he would have been happy to oblige, but now he just felt like trash. Maybe being appreciated under Schlatt’s rule in the man’s own asshole way had ruined him for the rest of.. Well, forever. 

The past week, they barely acknowledged his existence. It was like they still thought his loyalty lied somewhere else, like he didn’t care about them despite everything he went through to keep this safe. This sucked.  _ This sucked,  _ but he didn’t say it.

He nodded and went to grab an extra chair from outside, finding one in the back of their tiny community house they had built. He leaned against the wall for a bit, feeling the cool air brush through his air. The sky was dark and cloudy, but stars were still visible. The air refreshed him in an instant, allowed him to regain his breath and think without the suffocating feelings he felt indoors.

Sighing and running a hand through his hair, he pulled the chair along the grass and started towards the door. He could here his teammates cheering and laughing through the glass panes within the wall. For some reason unbeknownst to him, he waited for a second and listened carefully. 

Tommy was the loudest and easiest to hear. “Man, what’s taking Tubbo so long? Not like it’s hard to grab a chair..” 

“C’mon,” Wilbur, he deduced - and he was clearly drunk. “You know the boy, never been the physically capable type.” 

Tommy scoffed. “No kidding. Not mentally capable either, we probably wouldn’t have had to blow the whole place up if he’d been less of a wimp.” 

Tubbo felt shaky. 

“Hey, c’mon, bit harsh ‘innit?” 

Tommy laughed, “W-well, I mean, it’s not like I’m entirely serious. But could you blame me if I was? He was Schlatt’s little lapdog,” he continued, “Wouldn’t be shocked if he missed the guy.” 

Tubbo stopped listening. This - this was all stupid, wasn’t it? This was all stupid and dumb and - he felt himself shaking. His breath caught in his throat and suddenly the air wasn’t comforting, but suffocating. He couldn’t do this. His eyes watered.

Without thinking, he dropped the chair with a loud clang against the wall and took off into the woods. Anything to escape this feeling, the sound of his friends acting like he was an idiot, incompetent, a traitor. He didn’t register the calls of his best friend for him to  _ “Stop!!”  _ and  _ “Come back!!!”  _ He could barely feel the slapping of trees against his skin and the rocks and rubble he was stepping on, he only pushed his legs forward. The thoughts plaguing him were getting worse and worse. He tripped, his chin harshly scrapping against the cold and hard ground.

The fall knocked the wind out of him, stopping his thoughts and allowing him to painfully catch his breath. He stared up at the sky peeking between the trees. He’d been running for what felt like 10 minutes, his legs were sore and his lungs were screaming. He hadn’t even noticed when it started, but tears were freely pouring from his eyes. Everything  _ hurt. It hurt so bad, whatever all these feelings were. _

He laid there for hours, barely noticing the time pass. He panted until his breath slowed to deep inhales of the cold forest wind. Eventually his tears dried on his face, and the seering pain on his chin dulled into just a bruised throbbing. 

He sighed. How would he explain this to everyone tomorrow? This was stupid. He was stupid.

Mulling over the pain, he almost missed the sound of hushed murmurs and footsteps nearby. He quickly sat up, eyes going wide. He reached for a weapon but realized he hadn’t brought one.  _ Shit.  _

Scooting back against a tree, he held his breath and tried his best to listen to the voices. 

_ “Probably -- lost -- b-rd - food,”  _

_ “Dipshit, we -- killed -- blami-”  _

Whoever was out here was clearly human. Maybe Dream or something? Or Tommy and Wilbur came to find him? He sighed. Best to just out himself here.

“H-hell-o?” He called, and quickly fell into a coughing fit. Clearly his lungs still hadn’t recovered from his run. “ _ Uh _ , is someone there.” 

He swore he heard a small “oh, shit” but before he could ponder the source of the words, two figures came into view. 

A suit, ram horns, hidden behind another figure in a sports jacket and hoodie, clenching an axe. 

**Fuck.** Of all people, he ran into the ones they threw out here to be eaten by wolved.  _ Schlatt and Quackity. _

It took them a minute to register who he was, but he noticed the exact second realization flashed in their eyes. Quackity straightened up, clearly confused, and Schlatt scanned him over a good 6 times with his squinted eyes. He looked just as confused. 

“What the fuck,” Quackity spat. 

“... Well.  _ Hahaha,  _ what the fuck do we have here?” Schlatt’s tone was amused, and he pushed Quackity aside to walk closer to the blonde boy. 

Schlatt leaned down to look him eye-to-eye. His eyes flickered from his bruised face to his flushed expression. 

_ Well shit. They were probably going to kill him. _

His suspicions were immediately confirmed. Quackity laughed a bit. “Wooooww. Lot of nerve coming out here after your friends rejected our fat asses, Tubboy!” He lifted the axe onto his shoulder. “Should you do the honors, or should I?” 

Schlatt shushed the other man aggressively, “Christ, do you ever shut up? Hold on.” 

Leaning in closer, Schlatt gently grabbed the boy by the chin. They sat for a good minute, with Tubbo’s anxiety rising by the milisecond. 

Finally, he spoke.

“Jesus christ,” he deadpanned, “you look like shit.” 

Tubbo gives him a tired glare. 

“Alright, jeez kid. You’ve gotten kinda feisty huh? That’s what happens when you hang out with a bunch of anarchists.” Distantly, Tubbo can hear Quackity step a bit closer, lowering his axe. He stares between the two curiously, and they exchange a look. 

The half-ram looks at him again and pulls a handkerchief out of his suit’s pocket. Even in this dark, Tubbo can see how torn up and dirty his suit is, probably from the explosion. He continues to stare, dazed, before he sees Schlatt motioning for him to take the cloth.

“Hello? Earth to Tubbo? Is beaten-and-bruised a new fashion statement with you guys or some shit, or are ya gonna take this?” 

Cautiously, he does. The ram looks pleased. 

Tubbo opens his mouth to say something but closes it again. He begins wiping the dried blood off his face, hissing a bit at the pain. Finally, he speaks. 

“.. Thank you. S-Schlatt.”

“Uh-huh, remember you owe me. Now.. run back to your friends, or whatever the fuck, or I’ll get that degenerate to pursue his boner for revenge.” 

Quackity feigns offense, laughing a bit. 

Why were they giving him mercy? Wouldn’t it have been easier to kill him? He doesn’t realize he had spoken aloud until Schlatt responds. 

He seems to ponder for a moment, standing back up and placing a hand on his chin in thought. He looks to the side. “...I’m a businessman, not a barbarian. No point now; you’d just respawn back at your house or pile or ash or whatever they’ve got ya’ sleepin on. And then your friend Tommy would probably come out here and try to carve my ribs outta my chest after seeing the death message. Not really interested.” 

Tubbo nods. It makes sense. 

With a sigh and words left unsaid, he tries to push himself up off the ground, only to feel an overwhelming sense of pain rush through im. “Auh!” He cries, quickly falling back onto the grass. He tries again, getting the same result until tears prick at his eyes from the pain.  _ This was fucking great. _ The two men look on at the display.

“Christ. Fuck were you even  _ doing out here  _ that got you beat up like that?” Schlatt says, moving to try and support the boy. Tubbo winces. 

“... don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“Right.” The man sighs. “Kids, can’t win with em.” Tubbo tries to get up again, only to fall and this time nearly crash his chin into the grass again, but Schlatt manages to catch him in time. He struggles a bit in his hold.

“Fuck, quit it, alright? You look pathetic. Just, **_c’mon_** ,” Tubbo stops struggling, letting the ram grab him by the waist and hoist him over his back. _What the fuck._

“ _ What the fuck. _ ” 

Quackity seems to share the same confusion, “What? Schlatt,  _ mi amor _ , haha, what are you doing.” 

“Haha,  _ don’t call me that. _ ” He adjusts Tubbo into a comfortable position slumped over his shoulder, resting a hand on the boy’s back for support. “He’s literally like a homeless person or something. It’s so sad it’s kinda painful to watch....... We’re taking him back.” 

That makes Quackity get rowdy. He puts his hands up in a ‘stop’ motion. “Woah woah woah woah woah, what the hell? You’re gonna rat us out! He’s just gonna go crawl back to his friends and tell them where we hid and then we’ll get blown up a  _ second _ time! My ass is not prepared, man! I can’t go through that!” 

Schlatt facepalms. “Oh my god. Whatever will we do. We get blown up again and lose the 2 sticks and 4 string in our very large pool of valuables. So help me. Truly, we will never recover from such a loss.” 

Schlatt continues, not letting the brown-haired man continue. “This is my right hand man, Quackity. What kind of guy would I be to let him die out here in pain?”    
  


Quackity deadpans. “You’re such a softy.” Schlatt punches him in the arm with an angry look.

Tubbo doesn’t know what to think. He’s also on the brink of passing out, so that probably has something to do with it. Distantly, he wonders if Schlatt has some nefarious alternative motive, or if he’s about to be held hostage. He can vaguely hear them arguing and can feel the soft movements of Schlatt carrying him to wherever, but he isn’t able to question it before he’s out cold.


End file.
